


Ghost Dance

by Straight_Outta_Hobbiton



Series: 400 Scrawls To Thank You All [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, Gen, Post-War, Recreational Drug Use, hippie!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-05
Updated: 2016-01-05
Packaged: 2018-05-12 00:43:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5647681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton/pseuds/Straight_Outta_Hobbiton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo has gone a different route after the end of the Winter War.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghost Dance

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked: I'm not sure if you remember bc it was a while back, but I think you and cywscross were talking about hippie!ichigo. And that is something definitely something I'd like to see you write, if you don't mind me asking.
> 
> A/N: Always a fan of the hippie shit, always a fan of Ichigo deciding to fuck the system in a way they aren't expecting, and while I can't quite remember the conversation between me and cywscross, I remember loving this idea for a long while, and I doubt the feel I was hoping for when I was talking about it with her has changed too drastically.

Ichigo has flowers in his hair.

For some reason Kisuke can’t help but focus on that— maybe it’s to distract him from the redness of Ichigo’s dilated eyes, or the frankly disturbingly bright paint smeared across his fingers, his face, his over-sized paisley-patterned shirt. There might even be more paint on his skin than on the canvas balanced on his knees, neon against tan skin.

But that doesn’t matter, because Ichigo has flowers in his hair. Daisies and forget-me-nots and something Kisuke can’t name.

The commune Ichigo has found himself on is called Songs of Joy Valley, and it mostly consists of small, squat houses strategically placed in the collection of trees that separate a shimmery blue lake and a meadow set aside for farming. Ichigo’s home— or at least, Kisuke assumes the wooden structure he’s leaning against is his— happens to be set between two peach trees, branches heavy with fruit in the height of summer.

"No, I think I’m alright."

"What do you mean, 'no'?"

Kisuke winces at the shrill tone of Rukia’s… he hesitates to call it a question. It’s more of a demand, a shriek of outrage that goes against all the well-bred manners he knows she must have— even if he’s never seen them for himself.

Ichigo hasn’t looked up since Rukia launched into a combination of excuses and explanations (a way to return to him his powers it took time Ichigo, a way to see his old friends again you understand we were busy), seemingly focused on the careful (and liberal) application of what Urahara’s nose tells him is cannabis to a square piece of rolling paper.

"Rukia, don’t take this the wrong way, but it’s been years. I’ve moved on with my life." Apparently satisfied, he pinches the corners and in one smooth motion tucks the paper in on itself. "Surely you expected it?"

He runs his tongue along the loose edge of the paper, peering up through his eyelashes at the outraged shinigami lieutenant.

"I— it’s only been six years!" she argues. "Barely any time at all."

"For a shinigami, maybe," Ichigo agrees. "But I’m human. I’m twenty-one years old. Six years is… a third of my life so far? A third of a quarter of my life… That’s what, ten percent of my projected life span? If I don’t get hit by a bus, anyway."

Satisfied with his roll, he sets the joint between his lips and reaches into the small pile of lighters by his knee.

"As a shinigami, your life would be almost eternal—"

"But I wasn’t living as a shinigami, was I?" Ichigo flicks the lighter and breathes in deep, neck curving as he holds his breath. "I was readjusting to a normal, human life. A life without ghosts and wars and my friends." He breathes out slowly, smoke curling around his face. Rukia’s nose crinkles at the smell.

"You— we’ve been trying to help you, to bring you back to us—"

"All I needed was a phone call. Maybe a visit, considering how many times you guys were in Karakura anyway."

"It took time—"

"By my wife’s calculations, two years," Ichigo interrupts again. "So obviously I wasn’t that important to you guys."

"You are important to— wife?"

Kisuke stiffens. A wife? Isshin never mentioned a wife in his long-winded rants about how Ichigo had been acting oddly, how he’d changed. How long had he been married? Did he have children? Did this girl know his past, his blood?

"I was unaware you were married, Kurosaki-san," Kisuke says quietly, because the other option is to overreact, and that is never a good option.

Finally, Ichigo looks up. His eyes are soft, slightly unfocused, and warm.

"Yeah. Just over a year. Usagi’s a treat. I’ll introduce you sometime if you want— she’s a big fan of your work."

Which means Usagi— whoever she is— knows at least something of Ichigo’s dalliances with Soul Society. That’s… Good, probably. For Ichigo. Lord knows what Soul Society would think of a human— well, Kisuke knows exactly what Soul Society thinks of humans knowing more than they should. Perhaps he ought to look into setting up a few wards around the valley, if not Ichigo’s home itself.

"But anyway, the answer’s no, Rukia. I don’t want anything you could give me. I’m happy where I am."

Ah, it seems Ichigo’s returned his attention to the lieutenant who Kisuke could conceivably argue was the young man’s first crush.

"But—"

"No buts. I don’t want it. Take the sword— and the entourage I know you’ve brought— and leave me be. I’ve had enough excitement for a lifetime." He glances back at the blonde. "You’re welcome to stay, of course, Urahara-san. From what I understand, you’re an old hat in places like this."

Kisuke wonders how Ichigo would know. For that matter, why would his wife have any conceivable understanding of the mechanics of the plans to return Ichigo’s powers? How—

Rukia snaps her fingers.

"You’re just being petty," she decides. "You want us to beg. It’s unbecoming of you, Ichigo, to be like this."

Ichigo blinks, confusion turning curving his lips into a frown.

"What do you mean?"

"As if you could really be happy here," Rukia says. "Married to a human, living in squalor. You’re a fighter, Ichigo, not some soft-hearted idealist who talks things out. You’re a soldier. You live to fight. This? This is you settling."

"And settling for what, may I ask?"

The intruder catches Kisuke off guard, and instinctively his hand tightens around Benihime. His eyes focus on the woman standing in the doorway and— oh. Oh.

This may be the explanation Isshin has been looking for.

"Usagi." Ichigo says her name almost reverently, and maybe that’s what love is, an understanding of the divinity in another person.

Kisuke isn’t thinking about that though. He’s stuck on the golden, poker straight hair that frames the girl’s face, the thin lipped mouth that spirals at the edges to reveal large white teeth, complete with a gap that Kisuke remembers from school, oh, oh—

"Who are you?"

Kisuke knocks forward his hat to hide his eyes. The lady’s spent too much time among her own. He can’t remember her being this stupid before. Honestly, this girl is identical to—

He’s gonna have to ask Hirako about this later.

Usagi moves with heavy, loud steps. Even barefoot, she walks heel to toe. She’s dressed in rolled up jeans and an over-large shirt that’s tied off to show her mid-riff, revealing a set of long-healed burns in the shape of claw marks that ride diagonally down her long torso to curve into her jeans.

She stops by her husband’s side, crosses her arms, and says, quite simply.

"I’m the wife." She arches an eyebrow, brown eyes (not violet, that would just be weird) peering down the crooked curve of her nose at the little lieutenant. "Please, tell me, Kuchiki-fukutaicho, exactly what has my husband settled for?"

Rukia glares at her.

"He’s not meant for this," she repeats. "What sort of life is this? He’s royalty. He’s a hero. He’s—"

"Married." Usagi tilts her head. "To me."

"A human, one who could never understand what he’s been through, what he’s lost."

"She’s gotten dumber since we last saw each other," Ichigo tells his wife blandly, humor sparking in his eyes.

"Nah, she was always this stupid," Usagi says dismissively. "What more do you expect of Rukongai trash?"

Something flashes in Rukia’s eyes, something wild, and it’s only thanks to Kisuke’s reflexes that she doesn’t jump at the woman.

"Kuchiki-fukutaicho, perhaps it’s best if we take our leave now," he says soothingly, hands tight around her upper arms as he forces her elbows to dig into her sides. "It seems quite clear that Kurosaki-san is uninterested."

"Let me go, you damn pervert!" she tears herself . "You’re gonna let him throw his life of away on this? He’s s a hero, he could be a great leader—"

"But I don’t want to be," Ichigo interjects mildly.

Rukia rounds on him.

"You’re twenty years old—"

"Twenty-one."

"—You don’t know what you want!"

"I can’t believe you fell in love with this bitch," Usagi remarks, turning slightly to her husband without taking her eyes of the Kuchiki heir.

Ichigo sighs.

"I was a stupid kid then," he admits. "I mean, I threw myself into a goddamn war, for fuck’s sake."

Rukia let’s out a strangled shriek, drawing her zanpakuto— no, not her zanpakuto, the weapon given to her to return Ichigo’s abilities— and charging.

She makes it about three steps.

"The Songs of Joy Valley is a place of peace," says the man holding the lieutenant by the hair. "Violence is not tolerated and shall be… Punished."

Kisuke feels his heart stuttering to a stop. No. Impossible. Shinji having a child isn’t so far out of the realm of possibility, but… But this?

"Don’t keep her too long, Atsushi," Ichigo orders lazily, handing Usagi the second half of his joint. She takes it without looking, breathing in deeply.

"Yeah, Sushi, don’t forget she’s a lady," she adds, her father’s smile stretching to something more sinister. The man— the man with ash blond hair that’s tangled up in a wiry bun at the base of his neck— meets her smile with a grin of his own and disappears into his own damn shadow.

Kisuke looks back at Ichigo, and by the way Ichigo smiles at him, there’s something written across his face that’s likely shock.

"Have a sit, Urahara-san," Ichigo says, patting an empty part of tye-dye sheet beside him. "Usagi, I think he might need some of that."

Usagi snickers, handing over the joint.

"I’ll get some more from the pantry," she tells Kisuke. "Nice to finally meet you, Urahara-san."

She slips back into the house, leaving Urahara nothing to do but obey, settling beside Ichigo and setting the joint between his teeth.

"What on earth have you gotten yourself into, Kurosaki-san?"

"Call me Ichigo. Everyone here does." Ichigo leans back against the wood of the house. "I haven’t gotten myself into anything this time, Urahara-san. I’ve gotten myself out. It was only a matter of time before the Gotei tried to shackle me to them. This place is a haven for people like me."

"… How many are… How many people here are like you?"

Ichigo shrugs.

"All of us. If all that huffing and puffing about not having any contact with humans is true, than a lot of Gotei soldiers are in deep shit." He smiles. "Naughty boys, the lot of you."

Kisuke inhales again. He needs it, he thinks, ignoring Ichigo as he reaches up to knock the hat off his head.

"Shit."

"Eh, it’s not so bad. We take care of our own, here." Ichigo plucks the flower crown off of his own head and drapes it across Kisuke’s head. "Relax. the wards are going up as we speak. It’s a beautiful day, and you’re on your way to getting so stoned you can’t walk."

"How— Atsushi. He’s one of mine, then?"

Ichigo nods.

"There’s like, six. Shinji’s got more. Rose has… So many. I don’t keep track anymore. But hey, you guys were here for like a hundred years, I don’t blame you."

"Shit."

"Like I said. Relax. Smoke some more, have a drink. You can stay as long as you need."

Kisuke leans back slowly, smoke curling from his mouth.

"This is a big problem."

There’s a smile in Ichigo’s voice.

"For the shinigami, yeah."

"You realize you’ll have to explain."

"Later."

There’s paint on Ichigo’s fingers, and flowers in Kisuke’s hair. The sun is shining, the air smells like fruit and smoke, and distantly, Kisuke recognizes something like Patti Smith playing from somewhere in the house.

He closes his eyes and breathes in.

Later seems like a good idea.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Patti Smith's 'Ghost Dance', off her record 'Easter'. While the song doesn't suit this particular fic, I do feel it fits the musical vibe of the hippie!Ichigo universe, and there's ghosts 'n' shit.
> 
> And so here is my first answer to the 400 Scrawls prompt series I want to do! If you follow me on tumblr, shoot me a prompt you'd like to see and I'll get it done. My tumblr is straight-outta-hobbiton.tumblr.com, so yeah. Go do the thing.


End file.
